Blackblade 15.2 - A Cure For Caelan
Ridley walked down the halls of Kenta Sato’s not-insignificant house, looking for the room that had been set aside for Yomiel’s use. Apparently, they group of them had been camping and wandering for quite some time, and he was taking full advantage of finally being able to set up a proper lab. A sliding door with a sign telling housekeepers not to enter was the place Ridley looked for; hearing some slight noises coming from within, he edged the door open a crack, trying not to disturb anything. In the center of an interconnected mess of chemistry equipment was Yomiel, wearing goggles and delicately titrating some clear liquids. Ridley stood patiently, mainly as he didn’t want to be even partially responsible for setting the building on fire. When the alchemist finished that and didn’t appear to be doing anything immediately delicate, the elf knocked gently on the doorframe. Yomiel’s eyes flicked over towards him and, with no other acknowledgement, he continued conducting his business with his equipment. Ridley still waited, and after a few moments, Yomiel finished the task he was currently conducting and, with his system set to work independently for the moment, he extracted himself from the mess of beakers, clamps and tubes and walked over to the door, removing his eyewear. He said nothing, but looked at him civilly. “Sorry for interrupting, could I speak to you for a moment?” Ridley asked genially. Yomiel, face still blank, moved to the side; Ridley took this as an invitation to enter and stepped into the room, sliding the door shut behind him. “Thank you,” he added. Yomiel still gave no particular signs or signals; he looked at Ridley with no particular emotion, his fingers laced together with his hands in front of him. “I’m certain you’ve noticed Caelan’s downright chipper behaviour as of late?” Ridley began. He maintained a formal standing position to mirror the Leshrved’s. “It’s almost certainly the work of the faeries. You seemed to know something about the fey and the planes and such; do you have any idea how one might go about fixing that little problem?” Yomiel said nothing, but at the final question, he raised an eyebrow, leaving the rest of his face stationary. “I find that particular curse to be especially wretched, and I would feel awful leaving someone in that state if there was something I could do about it.” Ridley explained. “I don’t know,” Yomiel said flatly, then added with a slightly different tone, “but I could.” He sat down where he was and took on a deeply thoughtful look. Ridley watched him for a second, then ventured, “Soooo, what are you doing?” Yomiel, without breaking his thoughtful look, muttered, “Phrasing.” Ridley gave a small shrug and waited quietly, watching the various chemicals boil and react. Finally, Yomiel stood up and said with an air of command, “Vizier.” Before Ridley could respond, a third person was suddenly standing in the room in front of Yomiel. It was an obviously strange creature; though human in appearance, it was as though its age, gender and race were curiously indistinct. It wore clothes of plain colours, but the style was unlike anything currently worn by any human race. All that could be distinctly said of it was that whoever they were, they were obviously polite and seemed to exude an aura of trust and intelligence. They inclined their head forwards in greeting to Yomiel, whose next words were obviously practiced, “What is the most reasonable and achievable way to undo the emotion-deadening effect the fey wrought on Caelan Svedson, without harming him further?” The person considered this for a second, then offered, “The most achievable method would be an application of "Dispel Magic". Since the magic affecting Caelan Svedson is rooted in the spirit realm and not the mortal realm, either a native allied to your cause or a mortal using planar travel must cast the spell in that location.” When they finished, both they and Yomiel bowed their heads to each other, and the vizier disappeared. Ridley looked confused, “...Who...was that?” “The vizier,” Yomiel replied bluntly, turning back towards the elf, who stood with an expectant look on his face until Yomiel added, “The card.” It took Ridley a moment before he figured out the vague explanation. “I don’t know if that’s more or less useful than my infinite gem pockets, but still. Score,” Ridley nodded in approval. “Can you do that whenever you want?” “One in ten days. Past and present only,” was the response. “Very nice, very nice. So...we either have to get to the spirit realm or talk to something that’s already there. I’d rather not try door-to-door in the mountains; chances are good we’d end up far worse off than we already are. Do you know any fey?” Yomiel shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t either. I also don’t know anybody who does, or anyone who can jump planes. Though I can probably start hunting around for a good caster; any wizard or cleric good enough to cast that spell is probably well-known. Vol probably knows someone, mothers, it’s probably a relative, the Vols are one of the dedicated wizarding families, but that won’t help us any. Do you know anyone?” Yomiel shook his head, then added as an afterthought, “Tengu.” Ridley looked confused, “Tengu, as in, the bird people from the south? You know one?” Shaking his head again, he explained, “They use spirit magic. Almost all of them. Hereditary, and culture.” Ridley considered this, “...Alright, that’s pretty good, actually. We’re looking for a powerful caster, or a tengu. Those shouldn’t be too hard for me to find some information on.” Ridley bowed his head, and added, “Thank you, your assistance has been invaluable.” Yomiel bowed his head in turn, then went to resume his tasks, replacing the protective goggles on his face. Ridley ducked out of the room, and meandered off into town. Category:Banishment of the Blackblades